


Tears Before Bedtime

by shewhoguards



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Grief, Parenthood, Postnatal depression, mention of depression, self-justification of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 09:50:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21269087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhoguards/pseuds/shewhoguards
Summary: Petunia had been just about coping, and then there was another baby.





	Tears Before Bedtime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sinking Beatrice (Beatrice_Sank)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beatrice_Sank/gifts).

It started because the baby cried.

Petunia couldn’t cope with that. She had barely coped when her own dear Dudley cried, had felt her fierce love dimmed somewhat by the endless lack of sleep and the unrelentingly loud noise. She had managed that somehow, or at least had convinced the world that she had. Every time she wanted to shake him or scream at him she had covered instead by cooing or hugging him a little tighter, terrified in case he should somehow notice her inner rage. No-one had noticed. She was an excellent mother. Everyone had said so.

But now there was another baby, and he too did nothing but cry. She couldn’t cover it with this one, had no energy left to fake love any longer. The baby cried, and Dudley cried and Petunia sat in the kitchen and cried because she hadn’t enough arms to soothe everyone.

Vernon hated that. Dear Vernon, he wanted so badly to help, but you couldn’t expect a man to help with babies, could you? And of course he’d never guessed the troubles she’d had before, Petunia had taken care that it should be so. As far as Vernon was concerned he had had a happy home and a lovely family… and then the baby came.

Naturally he blamed the baby. Petunia should have stopped him, but she was angry herself. Angry with herself for her uselessness, angry with the baby -- with both the babies -- for crying, angry with her sister who should have been here helping her right now. If Lily had been here, if Lily had visited, surely she would have seen that something was terribly wrong, that maybe Petunia wasn’t meant for this whole mothering business? But Lily wasn’t here. Lily had gone and got herself killed fighting for some people she barely even knew and left Petunia with yet another baby.

Petunia thought, secretly, that she might hate babies. That was ridiculous, no-one hated babies. But those angry feelings kept coming, and she who was known as an excellent mother could hardly admit that her own dear little Dudley sometimes made her want to walk out of the house and never come back. She loved Dudley. She took pains to demonstrate it in every possible way.

So she blamed the baby. And Vernon, knowing no better, blamed the baby. The baby was horrible. The baby was badly behaved. The baby did nothing but cry. There was something wrong with the baby.

Later, perhaps, she might have wanted to walk that back. To admit that there was no way any child that small could cry with the _intent_ of upsetting her so, that maybe Harry had cried because he was tiny, and scared, and had lost his parents. Perhaps even to admit that Vernon also had a pair of arms and might have actually used them some nights when Petunia was so miserable with lack of sleep that she thought of throwing the baby - both babies - out of the window and going back to bed.

But to admit that would be to admit just how horribly she had behaved to a tiny innocent creature who was, after all, only a baby. And, however unconsciously, her mind shrank in horror from that thought. There would have to be something wrong, truly wrong, with anyone who did things so vile to a baby. And there was nothing wrong with her, could not be. Everyone said so. She had been a perfect mother when it was only Dudley. It had to be the baby. The pattern was set, the die cast. Abuse justified abuse, because to stop and reconsider was to admit to herself that her behaviour so far might have been less than outstanding. If there was something wrong in this family, it could only be with the newcomer who had been forced upon them.

There was something wrong with the baby.


End file.
